Page 30 of A Hard Habit to Break

Rachel didn’t look up. “Benji and I will work together on the designs. Bethany’s the visionary. My dad will provide the historical perspective.”

“And to make sure my daughter makes it home without a second wrist bandaged,” Matt groused, helping Bethany with her seat belt.

Noah resisted the urge to bang his head against the wheel.

Exiting the parking lot, he turned left. Main Street bloomed like a postcard come to life, dressed in its springtime finest. Azalea bushes lined the walkways in vibrant bursts of fuchsia and white, their sweet scent mingling with the earthy aroma of fresh-turned soil from the newly planted flower boxes. The afternoon crowd moved at a languid pace, neighbors stopping to chat beneath the bell awnings that shaded nearly every storefront window.

“Slow down,” Rachel instructed, not bothering to look up from her tablet. “I need to document the facade conditions.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Noah drawled, exaggerating his accent. “Anythin’ else you’d like? Perhaps I could pull over and polish your shoes while you work?”

Her lips twitched, but she kept her eyes fixed on her screen. “Your sarcasm is noted and thoroughly unappreciated.”

“Liar,” Noah grinned, loving the way her brows rose and fell with her excitement. “You’ve always appreciated my sparkling personality.”

From the middle seat, Benji chimed in. “I like it, if she doesn’t.”

“Thank you, Benji. I knew there was a reason not to put you in a headlock when we met.”

“Ah, okay. Maybe, it’s my personality we should be praising, then.”

Noah caught Rachel’s suppressed smile in his peripheral vision. She was having fun, and he was included. Benji snapped photos. Several passersby waved at Noah and blew kisses at Rachel. She returned both gestures with enthusiasm. No longer the shy tomboy who trailed close to the wall, watching him work the other kids for whatever they needed for their latest project—more nails, a new hammer, lumber for the mill. Back then, neither of their families had much money for kids to playwith. So, if the farmer’s daughter wanted it, Noah used his charm to make it happen. Seems the tables had reversed.

Noah watched the exchange, mesmerized by how easily Rachel slipped between worlds—sophisticated professional one moment, hometown girl the next. Even in her tailored blazer and sleek pants, she communicated with a small-town familiarity of the life she’d abandoned.

“She’s good,” Matt murmured from the back seat, leaning close to Noah’s ear.

“Always was,” Noah replied before he could stop himself.

Noah caught Bethany’s knowing grin in his rearview mirror just as she whispered, “I think he’s talking about something other than her architectural skills, Matt.”

Before Noah could deny the obvious, Rachel looked over her shoulder at her dad. “The empty space next to the barber’s. What was there before?”

“Olsen Pharmacy when we were kids,” Noah cut in, needing to focus on something other than Bethany’s assessment of his interest in Rachel then and now. “Then a thrift shop after you left for college. The building has sat empty since 2022.” Noah leaned over the steering wheel to find Rachel’s gaze locked on his mouth. Just like that, he was caught in her gravitational pull. Clearing his throat, he continued. “Load-bearing wall runs there,” he pointed to a spot in the center. “But if you removed that nonstructural partition, you’d have double the floor space.”

Rachel looked impressed. “How do you know that?”

“Tobias and I helped our dad upgrade the pharmacy shelving when I was nineteen. Got my first lesson in what happens when you fail to wear your eye protection right over there.” He pointed to a scar above his left eyebrow. “I about cried. Tobias hovered like a papa bear with an injured cub.”

“Why on earth would he be the one panicking?” Benji interjected.

“My brother, Tobias, had left his pilfered medical supplies at home.”

“Oh,” Benji frowned. “Sounds dangerous.”

“It wasn’t,” Noah grinned. “Even as a kid, T was a borderline hypochondriac. Not for himself… for other people’s problems. Our dad gave him an old medical bag from the vet clinic for gauze, bandages, and alcohol pads. Seemed to ease his mind being able to jump into action when needed.”

“He’s not the only Calvary brother with a superhero cape,” Rachel challenged. “I remember the pictures. There weren’t any tears when I read your Instagram post. Your fan club emoji’d their praises. A working man, injured on a construction site.”

“Fine, I was stoic and manly, even as a teenager.”

“That’s not how I remember it.” A ghost of a smile played on her lips. “You looked disappointed in yourself.”

He had been. His carelessness could’ve cost his family the extra money and landed them with an unexpected hospital bill. Their eyes met, and for a fraction of a second, the years fell away. They weren’t the committee chairman and the outsider; they were just Noah and Rachel, who’d once shared fresh peach pie at the Black Bear counter and dreams under a West Virginia sky.

As they turned past the old textile mill, Rachel yelled, “Stop here.”

She pointed at the two-story towering structure with the busted windows, the neglected cotton shed with its sagging roof, and the twin weaving warehouses with their weathered but sturdy red brick facades and large display windows clouded with years of dust and neglect. “This has potential for adaptive reuse.”